Chapter 17

The kitchen was bathed in golden morning light as Ryder plated up a massive spread—thick-cut bacon, fluffy scrambled eggs, and golden buttered toast. I perched on the tall bar stool, my knees hooked around the metal frame, eagerly digging in like a woman starved.

Ryder leaned back against the edge of the granite counter directly across from me, his bare chest glistening faintly in the sunlight, his dark eyes tracking every movement of my lips as I ate.

“You’re watching me like I’m going to run away,” I said between bites, setting down my fork to take a sip of the rich, steaming coffee.

“I’m watching you because you’re mine,” he rumbled, his voice low and heavy with that thick wolf velvet. He stepped around the island, his long fingers trailing over the smooth marble before catching my jawline, tilting my face upward. “And because you’ve got a drop of syrup right here.”

Before I could grab a napkin, Ryder leaned down, his lips brushing gently over the corner of my mouth. The gesture started soft, almost agonizingly sweet, but the moment my mouth parted with a soft gasp, his self-control snapped. His hand slid around the back of my neck, burying into my hair as he pulled me into a deep, bruising kiss that tasted like coffee and sweet syrup.

I let out a low hum into his mouth, my hands flying up to grip the broad, warm muscle of his shoulders. He pulled me off the stool and flush against his front, his heavy, calloused hand sliding down my spine to pin me tightly against his waist. The heat radiating off his bare skin was intoxicating, making my brain turn to complete mush before we even finished breakfast.

“You need to shower,” I gasped when he finally let my mouth go, my pulse hammering wildly against my throat. “You smell like smoke and wood.”

“Only if you make me, little wolf,” he growled against my cheek, his teeth nipping lightly at my earlobe.

Ten minutes later, the master bathroom was choked with dense, fragrant steam. The massive walk-in shower was encased in dark slate tile, the rain-shower head pouring a thick cascade of hot water into the glass enclosure.

I stood beneath the deluge, letting the heat wash away the lingering fatigue of the past twenty-four hours. My eyes were closed, my hands slicking my wet hair back from my face, when the frosted glass door swung open.

Ryder stepped straight into the spray, unbothered by the water soaking into his low-slung sweatpants.

Water sluiced over his golden skin, trailing down the hard contours of his chest and abdomen. Before I could say a word, his large hands clamped onto my waist, lifting me slightly as he backed me right up against the slick, warm slate wall.

“Ryder—”

His mouth came down on mine, cutting off the protest in a surge of wet, fiery heat. The hot water drummed against our shoulders and backs, but nothing felt hotter than his lips tearing into mine. His thumbs stroked over my hip bones, his palms scorching against my wet skin, pinning me in place while his tongue claimed every inch of my mouth with a feral, restless hunger.

I clung to his wet shoulders, my fingers digging into his corded back muscles as he tilted my head back beneath the waterfall, his lips dragging down my jaw to press a heavy, possessive bite into the curve of my neck.

“Mine,” he rasped into the steam, his chest heaving against mine as the water pooled around our feet. “Every single drop, Haven. Mine.”